Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [54]
“Private ones?”
“Oh, most definitely.”
Mmm. Car sex under the hot sun. Sounded just about perfect. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’d expect nothing else.” Her light mood returning, she asked, “So, is there anything else I should know before I introduce you to the Davis clan? I mean, you aren’t, like, tenth in line for the throne of England, right?”
Rolling his eyes, Sean reached over and slid his hand into her silky blond hair, wanting to touch her once more before they had to go in. “You Americans. Don’t you know anything about anybody’s history but your own?”
“I suppose not,” she admitted. Then she turned her face and kissed his palm, her lips soft and moist against his hot skin. “But you’re half-American, too, right?”
He nodded, conceding the point, not about to continue teasing her, not when her soft mouth was so gently caressing him, teasing him, driving him wild. Unable to resist more, he pulled his hand away, leaned over—eliminating the slight space left between them—and brushed his mouth against hers. Annie tilted her head to welcome him, her hair, tangled from the ride, falling over his bare forearm.
Kissing her in the sunshine was a new pleasure, bringing with it new, unexpected sensations. The lazy mating of their tongues brought to mind long, lethargic afternoons of slow-and-easy lovemaking that went on for hours. The kind where the object wasn’t the final orgasmic destination, but rather the delicious pleasures of the ride.
He probably could have kissed her all day, caressed her soft cheek, inhaled the irresistible peach scent that seemed to cloak her entire body. But suddenly something rapped him on the head and he jerked away.
Fully expecting to see one of her angry brothers, he was shocked to instead find himself face-to-face with a…a…“Good, God, what is that thing?”
His eyes wide, he could only stare as an enormous bird leaned into the open convertible again. This time, however, the creature didn’t aim his pointy, rock-hard beak at Sean’s head, but rather toward Annie’s outstretched hand.
“That’s Radar.” Smiling in visible delight, she rose to her knees on the car’s seat, watching as the beast gave an ungainly leap, landed on the hood of the car, then bounced down to stand on the other side of it.
Sean’s jaw dropped. There were bird prints on the Ferrari.
Bird prints.
That was going to be interesting to explain to the rental company. Jaysus, considering the size of the beast, he ought to check and make sure there weren’t dents beneath the prints.
“Hello, boy, you’ve missed me, haven’t you?” Annie asked as she reached up to tenderly scratch the puff of fluffy feathers on Big Bird’s crown.
“What exactly is he?” Sean asked, finally tearing his attention away from the circular smears of dirt on the bright red hood.
“An emu.”
An emu had just poked him in the head. This didn’t bode well for the upcoming weekend.
Behind them, Wally had finally awakened and had caught sight of the newcomer. The big old tabby was on all fours, his back arched, hissing through the top of his cage. Every piece of his fur stood completely on end so that he looked two inches larger all the way around.
“Wally thinks he’s fried chicken waiting to happen,” Sean said, still shaking his head. “Is there any particular reason your emu friend just poked me?”
“He’s a little overprotective,” she replied, almost cuddling the overgrown fluff ball, who was now nosing around her silky, sleeveless shirt, as if looking for pockets that might contain food.
When Annie had arrived at the hotel this morning, Sean had studied that shirt. His mouth had gone wet with hunger at the memory of those beautiful, delicate breasts so perfectly highlighted by the fabric.
So he could have told the bird there were no pockets. Because he’d looked. Hard.
“Emus aren’t usually terribly friendly. But I raised Radar from infancy. He was my senior 4H project, and he loves me. Now he’s just like the family dog, roaming around the yard.”
God, Sean wouldn’t want to step in